


Keith the Cat-Burglar

by WildWolf25



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cats, College AU, Gen, I only condone the stealing of cats affections not picking them up and taking them, M/M, Modern AU, Zarkon only pops up for a minute, the Red Lion is a housecat, the relationship is just a background thing, this is mostly about Keith and Red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildWolf25/pseuds/WildWolf25
Summary: “Keith, you can’t just go around stealing people’s cats.”“I didn’t steal her.”“Dude, look at her.  She’s asleep on you.”  He pointed to the cat, curled up on the small of his back with her nose tucked under her tail.  “You have officially stolen that cat’s heart.  Our house is now the affair house.  Whoever she belongs to, you’re the ‘other man’ now.”(Keith may have accidentally stolen a cat)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this incident](http://wildwolf25.tumblr.com/post/161382486321/throwback-to-last-year-when-i-accidentally-stole-a) in which I briefly sometimes had a cat that was not technically mine.

When it came down to it, Keith really liked his apartment.  Sure, it was tiny ( _ really  _ tiny), and the oven was a little temperamental, and the floor was sloped (which they found out when Lance dropped a pencil and it rolled clear to the other side of the apartment without stopping until it hit the opposite wall), and the downstairs neighbors were sometimes noisy.  But it was clean, nothing was falling apart, and it was only a ten minute walk to campus (or six, if you sprinted).  At the end of the day, it was a pretty good apartment and Keith liked it.  

That being said, there was only one real downside to this place; there were only three windows in the apartment -- one in Keith’s room, one in Lance’s room, and one in the front room, which served as a living room/kitchen) -- and the landlord had installed air conditioning units in each one, making them unable to be opened without the entire unit falling out the window.  This hadn’t been a problem when they moved in last summer, when the air conditioning was a welcome addition, or in the winter, when it was so cold that Lance declared even the thought of opening a window to be an offense punishable by death.  No, the problem came when the snow had melted, days were growing longer, and Keith had begun to notice how musty their shut-up apartment had become.  It wasn’t too big of a deal -- he doubted Lance had even noticed it yet -- but Keith decided he ought to try and get some fresh air into the apartment before it started to stink.  He was used to just throwing open the windows on nice days, but it looked like that might be difficult here.  

Keith stood in front of the window for about five minutes, frowning in thought, until he concluded that there was simply no way to open it without dislodging the AC unit, and he really didn’t want to have to explain to the landlord why there was a crumpled heap of metal underneath their window.  Seeing no other way around it, he just opened the front door and left it like that while he went about his business.  Their apartment was on the second floor, up a rickety wooden staircase that you would have to know exactly where it was already if you wanted to find it along the side of the house, so the chances of someone walking in were pretty slim; half the time they couldn’t even get the pizza delivery guy to find their front door.  As long as he stayed within sight of the door (impossible not to, in such a small apartment), it should be fine, he figured.  

He threw a load of laundry in the washing machine and tidied up the apartment a little, figuring he might as well get some spring cleaning in while he aired out the place.  After that, he stretched out on the couch and started to slog his way through his reading assignment for his English class.  When the washing machine beeped, he gladly abandoned Hemingway in favor of hanging up the laundry to dry on a folding drying rack set up in his bedroom.  The rooms were so small that just unfolding the drying rack took up most of what little floor space he had, but there wasn’t much he could do since the apartment didn’t have a dryer. 

As he hung up the wet clothes, he found himself thinking that it was quite a peaceful afternoon.  It was Friday, he had already finished up his classes for the day, the birds were chirping outside, a warm spring breeze was blowing through the open door carrying the scent of last night’s rain into the apartment, and when Lance got home later maybe they would watch a movie together. 

Keith hung up a pair of jeans to dry and was reaching back into the laundry basket when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.  He froze; there was a small orange tabby cat slinking past his door, headed for Lance’s room.  

A cat.  In their apartment.  They did not own a cat.

It took a few moments for Keith to shift the drying rack into the place he had been standing so he could squeeze past it to get out the door (these rooms were  _ tiny _ ), and by the time he got out of his room, the cat was already standing in the middle of Lance’s room, looking around curiously.  Its tail twitched lazily and it didn’t even look at Keith where he stood in the doorway, gaping at it.  

“You… what…  _ how _ ?!”  He sputtered, not really expecting an answer.  It must have just strolled in through the open front door.  He was pretty surprised it had thought to climb all the way up their stairs outside; they couldn’t even get the pizza guy to do that!  

The cat ignored him and began investigating under Lance’s bed.  

“Oh no you don’t,” Keith crouched down and made a grab for the cat, but it slipped under the bed before he could catch it.  He got down on his knees and lifted up the edge of the blue bedspread, and was greeted by the sight of a cat-butt in his face.  Well, at least he knew this cat was a girl now.  He frowned at her.  “Hey, get out from under there.”  The cat didn’t give any indication that she had heard him, other than a twitch of her tail.  He reached under the bed, but she just slipped further away, slinking between a balled-up sweater and a forgotten cup (the space under Lance’s bed was like Narnia; entire worlds could have lived in the mess under there).  

Keith laid on his stomach and stretched his arm as far as he could under the bed, but couldn’t even get close to her.  He sighed.  “Come on out from under there.”  

She just blinked at him, her eyes glowing yellow in the dim light.  They had a brief staring contest, then she turned away to sniff at a baseball that was sitting next to her.  

Keith frowned and sat up.  If there was one thing he knew about cats, it was that you couldn’t make them do anything they didn’t want to do.  If he wanted to get her out from under the bed, he would have to make her think it was her idea.  He stood up and walked over to the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge until he found a package of lunch meat.  He opened the plastic packaging noisily, smirking as he heard a jingle from the depths of Lance’s bed.  But even when he turned around, he didn’t see her.  Fine, then, he thought to himself, he could deal with playing hard to get.  He sat down on the floor just outside Lance’s room with a slice of lunch meat, setting it on a plate on the floor a little bit in front of him, then sat perfectly still.  A minute or so later, a little orange head poked out from under the blue bedspread, yellow eyes locking on the meat.  She emerged from under the bed silently and sniffed at the ham before devouring it.  Keith reached up and closed Lance’s bedroom door, shifting her tail out of the way.  

After she finished the single slice of lunch meat, she looked up at him expectantly, as though asking  _ where’s the rest of it?   _ He chuckled quietly and held out his hand, which she darted towards before realizing he didn’t have any more meat.  She sniffed his hand, then bumped the side of her head against it.  Keith smiled as he scratched behind her ears.  “Where did you come from?”  He wondered aloud.  Their apartment didn’t allow pets, but some of the others on this street did, and he sometimes saw a fluffy white cat sitting in the window of the house on the corner, but he hadn’t seen an orange tabby yet.  She had a red collar around her neck, so he knew she wasn’t a stray, but there was no tag on it.  She must be an outdoor cat, or maybe she had escaped.  

The cat sniffed at the plate the lunch meat had been on, then circled around him, rubbing against his back and knee.  “I wonder what your name is,” he said, running a hand down her back.  She was such a pretty color; the darker stripes along her body were burnt-orange, almost red.  “Since I don’t know your name, I’ll just call you Red.”  He decided.  “Where do you live, Red?  How’d you get up here?”  

Red just rolled onto her back.  He snorted in amusement and rubbed her tummy for all of ten seconds before she curled around his hand, biting playfully.  He winced but didn’t yank his hand back, since it wasn’t too painful.  “Ouch, good job.  Bet you kill a lot of birds, don’t you?”  He knew better than to discourage play-hunting with outside cats.  This cat seemed young; not a kitten, but not big enough to be an adult.  She probably wasn’t even a year old yet.  She was also very thin, too thin for his liking.  Had it not been for the collar around her neck, he might have thought her to be a feral cat (albeit a very friendly one).  

He carefully extracted his hand from her claws and stood up.  She watched him, clearly interested when he opened the refrigerator.  He took out the package of lunch meat again, and suddenly she was winding around his feet in an instant.  “Alright, alright, calm down.”  He laughed and picked out another slice of ham, letting her eat it out of his hand.  She gobbled it down, and he took a moment to look at her ribs underneath her sleek orange coat before giving her a third slice.  “Okay, but that’s it.”  He told her, putting the package back in the fridge.  While she was eating, he went to the sink and put some water in a shallow bowl, then set it down next to her.  She lapped at the water for a couple minutes, then sat back and looked around for a moment before heading off in the direction of Keith’s room.  He followed a few steps behind her, wondering what she would do.  She sniffed at his laundry, and he realized he would need to finish hanging it up or it would dry wrinkled and slowly.  

“Alright, feel free to explore, I guess.”  He told the cat.  He didn’t think he had anything potentially dangerous lying around.  While he finished hanging up his laundry, she poked around under his bed and in his closet.  He was just hanging up the last shirt when he heard a soft rustle behind him and turned around to find her on his bed, curling up on the pillow like she owned it.  “Really?”  He cocked an eyebrow at her.  She just yawned in response.  He shook his head fondly and walked over to the bed, scooping her up.  “I’d rather not get cat hair all over my face when I sleep, thanks.”  He propped her up on his shoulder, and she took this in stride by trying to swipe at his ceiling fan pull string as they passed it on the way out.  He closed the door behind him, then set her down on the living room floor.  “You probably can’t get in too much trouble out here,” he mused, eyes quickly scanning for anything potentially harmful to cats.  Finding no immediate dangers, he was content to sit cross-legged on the floor and watch her for a while, reaching out to pet her whenever she got close.  For the most part, she ignored him in favor of sniffing around and rubbing her head against various pieces of furniture.  He checked the time and realized he had a homework assignment electronically due in an hour.  “Crap.  Well, make yourself at home, I guess.”  He told her, grabbing his laptop.  She replied by batting the TV remote off the coffee table.  “Not  _ that _ at home.”  He frowned at her and picked it up again, but she was already wandering off to the kitchen, tail held aloft jauntily.   

He rolled his eyes and stretched out on his stomach on the couch to work on his online assignment.  The front door was still open, and the cat was perfectly capable of leaving whenever she wanted to.  She did, in fact, go and sit in the open doorway for a few minutes to watch the birds in a nearby tree while he read his article and started typing up a response.  After a while, she wandered over to the couch and hopped up on it, then daintily walked over the back of his legs and curled up in the curve of his back.  He paused in his typing, then continued cautiously, careful not to make too much movement and disturb her.  

She still hadn’t moved by the time he finished submitting his assignment, so he decided to aimlessly browse the internet for a while.  It was just common knowledge that one was not allowed to move once a cat decided to sleep on them, after all.  They were still like that -- Keith scrolling through tumblr, Red dozing on the small of his back -- when Lance came home, humming to himself as he climbed the stairs outside.  

“Huh, the door’s open,” Lance said quietly a moment before he reached the landing.  “Hey babe-- uh,” he cut himself off as he took in the sight.

“Sup,” Keith greeted, not looking up from his laptop. 

“I have questions.”  Lance said, stepping inside.

“Okay, shoot.”

“One: are you aware that there is a cat on your back?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, that brings me to two and three: when did you get a cat?  And how dare you go to the pet store without me, you traitor.”  Lance feigned an offended tone.  The grocery store was located right next to a pet store, and it had become somewhat of a tradition for them to stop in and look at the animals -- and in Keith’s case, covertly sneak his hand into the cat cages to pet them without the employee noticing -- before going next door to pick up groceries.

“I didn’t go to the pet store.”  Keith said.  “I think she lives down the street.  I named her Red.”  

“Oh my god, you  _ stole  _ a  _ cat _ ?”  Lance stared at him.  

“I didn’t  _ steal  _ a cat.”  Keith told him, looking up.  “She just waltzed in.”  

“Impressive that she got past the doorknob.”  Lance commented, arching an eyebrow at him.  

“I may have left the door open.”  Keith admitted. 

“ _ May have _ ?”  Lance gestured to the still-open door.

“Alright, I did.”   

“So you  _ lured  _ a cat into being stolen.”  Lance said.  

“No, I was trying to air out the apartment because it’s beginning to smell weird and it’s a nice day today.”  Keith told him.  “The cat was an added bonus.”  

“You know you have to give her back, right?”  Lance asked.  

“She’s free to leave whenever she feels like it.”  Keith said, turning back to his laptop.  The warm ball of fluff on his back didn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon.  

“Keith, you can’t just go around stealing people’s cats.”  

“I didn’t steal her.”

“Dude, look at her.  She’s asleep on you.”  He pointed to the cat, curled up on the small of his back with her nose tucked under her tail.  “You have officially stolen that cat’s heart.  Our house is now the affair house.  Whoever she belongs to, you’re the ‘other man’ now.”  

“Don’t be dramatic.”  Keith rolled his eyes.  

“You might as well have fed her, for crying out loud.”  Lance snorted, heading for the kitchen.  He stopped when he saw the plate and bowl of water on the floor.  Keith said nothing.  Lance stared at him.  “Wait.  You didn’t.”

Keith didn’t look at him.

“Keith!”  Lance sounded indignant.  “She’s never going to leave, now!”

“She’s too skinny, okay?  I had to!”  Keith defended.  

“Oh my god, I cannot believe you.”  Lance shook his head fondly as he got himself a glass of water at the sink.  “My boyfriend has gone over to a life of crime.  Keith the cat-burglar.”  

Keith rolled his eyes at that.  Lance set his glass down on the table and perched on the edge of the couch near Keith’s knees.  Red lifted her head to sniff at his hand, then went back to her nap while Lance petted her.  “She is pretty cute.”  He admitted.

“Mmhmm,” 

“We can’t keep her.”  

“I know.  I’ll make her leave by dinnertime.”  

~~~~~~~

The next evening, the two boys were curled up on the couch watching a movie together while the rain pattered down outside.  Suddenly they heard a faint meow come from just outside the door.  They locked eyes for a moment.

“Keith, no.”  Lance said, but Keith was already getting to his feet.

“It’s  _ raining _ .”  He said, opening the door.  The little orange tabby dashed inside, fur even darker orange with the rainwater.  Lance sighed as Keith closed the door.

“Hang on, girl, we’ll get you dried off.”  Red followed Keith to the bathroom, where he grabbed a towel and rubbed it over her body, speaking softly all the while.  “You’re still so skinny… we’ve still got some ham left, or do you want some turkey?”

Lance just shook his head fondly, sighing.  A few minutes later, Keith resumed his spot on the couch, this time with Red curled up in his lap.  

“I cannot believe this cat is having an affair with you.”  Lance said, unpausing the movie.  

“Don’t make it weird.”  Keith snorted, scratching between her ears. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand! But this will probably be it, since I'm out of ideas. This is no longer based on my own cat-stealing adventures, because my cat friend's human was a nice lady who didn't mind me playing with her cat from time to time.
> 
> Also I just wanted to say that I love German Shepherds and have nothing against them whatsoever. I just needed a big breed of dog.

“Do I even want to know why you have a Build-A-Bear box?”  Keith asked, arching an eyebrow at his boyfriend while he held Red in his arms.  

Lance yelped as he narrowly stopped a baseball bat from falling out of his closet.  “Birthday present for my little sister,” he explained, shoving the bat back into the mess that was his closet.  “The bear fit in my suitcase, but the box didn’t.  And then I forgot to put it out with the recycling.”  He pulled a white and blue cardboard box out, and a cascade of shoes followed suit.  He kicked them back in and stepped out of the mess, opening up the strange, house-shaped box.  “Alright, put ‘er in.”  

“I don’t see why we can’t just let her stay the night and leave when it’s not raining.”  Keith said.

“Because she’s someone else’s cat, babe, and they’re probably going to get worried if she doesn’t come home.”  Lance said.  “If your cat was missing, wouldn’t you be worried?”  

Keith looked down at Red, scratching between her ears.  “...I guess.”  He sighed.  “Fine, put the box on the floor.”  

Lance did so, and Keith extricated her claws from his shirt and tried to set her inside.  Red did not want to go in the box, by any means.  She spread her legs out and clawed at the sides, discontent growls rumbling from her throat.  With a hiss, she managed to wiggle out of Keith’s grip and pushed off the box, toppling it as she leapt off toward the direction of the living room.  

“I think she wants to stay.”  Keith said, rubbing a shallow scratch mark on his forearm.

“She can’t,” Lance said firmly.  “I am not going to get the police called on me for catnapping just because you’re too soft to put a cat in a box.”  

Keith sighed.  “Alright, fine.”  He picked up the box and brought it out to the living room just in time to see an orange tail disappear under the couch.  After taking a moment to think, he set the box down on the floor and got out yet another piece of turkey from refrigerator, the set it inside the box and sat down on the floor a short distance away.  Lance crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, and they waited in silence.  

After a couple of minutes, Red poked her head out from under the couch, yellow eyes zeroing in on the box.  She slunk over and stuck her head through the hole cut in the side for the Build-A-Bear’s face, but couldn’t reach the meat, so she sat back, wiggled her rump, and then jumped inside the box.  Keith reached out and pushed the top folds of the box together, securing the tabs.  An indignant yowl came from within the box.  “I know, girl, but you have to go home.”  He said softly, picking up the box.  Red made a weird _mrawr-mrawr-mrawr-mrawr_ sound as she grumpily ate the slice of turkey while complaining at the injustice.

They slipped on their shoes, Lance grabbed an umbrella, and the two of them walked outside.  It was pretty late in the evening and it had been raining since late afternoon, with no apparent intention of letting up anytime soon.  Lance held the umbrella up over the both of them and Keith carried the box in his arms, and they started going up and down the street knocking on people’s doors.  Three people didn’t seem to be home, four said they didn’t have a cat, and one guy was high as a kite and tried to give them twenty bucks while commenting on the weird shape of the pizza box.  

“If no one on this street claims her, we should just let her stay the night and leave on her own.”  Keith said as they started making their way back up the other side of the street.  “I’m not wandering around the entire neighborhood like this.”

“Agreed.”  Lance nodded, reaching out a hand to knock on the door in front of them.  A few moments later, a tall man with short buzzed hair answered the door, wearing a shirt with a giant ZRKN on it.  “Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you missing a cat?”  Lance asked.

The guy eyed them and the box thoughtfully.  “Yes.”  

“What color is the cat?”  Keith asked.  Something about this guy’s tone made him not trust him.

“...Black.”  

“Then this isn’t your cat.”  Keith said, taking a step back.  “Thank you for your time.”

“Um, gray?”  The guy tried again.  “White?”

“Nope, sorry.”  Lance lifted the umbrella again as they stepped off the porch.  The guy frowned and closed the door, looking disgruntled.  

They kept trying houses, but didn’t come across anyone else looking for a cat until they were on the porch of the house next to theirs.  A woman opened the door, tucking her long, bleached-pale hair behind a heavily pierced ear.  “What do you want?”  She asked, not sounding too happy to find two boys on her doorstep at nine o’clock at night.  

“Are you missing a cat?”  Keith asked.  

The woman looked behind her, peering back down the hall.  “Goddamn it, did that cat get out again?”

“What’s the cat look like?”  Lance asked.

She sighed, looking disinterested.  “I don’t know, like a cat?  It’s orangish, pretty small, has a red collar.”

“Sounds like a match.”  Lance said, and Keith felt his heart sink.  He was hoping they could take Red home for the night.  Lance went on.  “We’ve got her in this box here.”  

The woman arched an eyebrow at the box.  “Build-A-Bear?”  She asked, her tone judging.  Before Lance could respond, though, a loud bark startled them and a German Shepherd dog appeared at the woman’s side.  Keith felt the weight in the box shift around, like Red had jumped.  

“Down, Myzax!”  The woman grabbed the dog by the collar and pushed him back into the house.  “Sorry about him.” She said, blocking the door so the dog couldn’t get out again.  “Well?  Are you going to give me my cat back or what?”  

“Um, yeah, sure.”  Keith unfolded the tabs on the top of the box and set it down, lifting Red up with two hands.  The woman reached out a single hand -- each finger tipped with long, purple manicured nails -- and picked the cat up under the belly, setting her down on the floor before closing the screen door.  Keith spoke up again as she started to close the front door.  “Just out of curiosity, what’s your cat’s name?”  He had a feeling he would be seeing her around again.

“Oh, we’ve been calling it Jerry.” 

Lance blinked.  “...Jerry?”  What a strange name for a cat.

“You know that cat is a girl, right?”  Keith asked.   

“I didn’t.  I don’t particularly care.”  The woman shrugged.  “I just have it because my boyfriend’s cat had kittens and he was begging people to take them.”  

“Oh.”

“Do you guys need anything else, or can I go?”  She asked, looking bored.  

Keith’s jaw tightened.  He did not like this woman at all.  Lance touched the back of his hand reassuringly as he spoke up.  “No, thank you for your-- uh… time…” he trailed off uncertainly as the door was shut without another word.  

Keith picked up the box and turned on his heel, heading out into the rain without even waiting for Lance.  Lance ran after him, but Keith ignored him and stomped up the stairs.  “Keith, babe, I know you’re mad--”

“Why would you think that?”  Keith bit out sharply, kicking his shoes off and dumping the cardboard box on the coffee table.  

“Look, I don’t like her attitude either, but there’s nothing we can do--”

“She doesn’t even want her, Lance.”  Keith said.  “She didn’t even know she was a girl.  She doesn't care about her at all.”

“I know.”  Lance said, taking his shoulders.  “But we can’t do anything.  She’s not our cat, and if you take her, it would be within that woman’s rights to call the police and you could get in serious trouble.”  

Keith shrugged out of his grip.  “She can’t stop me from leaving food out for her, and neither can you.”  

~~~~~

That was definitely not the last Keith saw of Red.  He kept calling her Red, because it was a much better name than a half-assed ‘Jerry’.  He started leaving a bowl of water out for her at the base of their stairs, and changed the water every day for her.  He noticed her a lot when he was walking to or from classes, and he would wave to her.  Sometimes she ran up to him to be pet, and sometimes she ignored him in favor of stalking a bird with laser-focus.  Occasionally, she would even stalk  _ him _ , following a few feet behind him before lunging at his feet when he neared the edge of the block.  He always laughed, let her bite his shoelaces for a few minutes, told her not to go in the street, and then continued on his way to class while she slunk off in search of another bird to terrorize.  

She still came around to their apartment nearly every day, climbing up the stairs and meowing at the door until someone opened it.  Keith spent a lot of time sitting on his front porch playing with her, as Lance said it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep letting her in the house.  He did give her something to eat every time she came around, because she was still too skinny for his liking.  A few cans of cat food may have accidentally gotten into their grocery bags, unnoticed by Lance until they got home.  Keith pretended he knew nothing about them, but Lance wasn’t fooled.  He also didn’t tell him not to, though, so Keith kept doing it.  

One day, Keith heard the sound of meowing coming from outside, but when he opened the door, he found Red was sitting at the foot of the stairs.  “Hey, girl,” Keith called softly, stepping outside and shutting the door behind him.  It was strange, usually she had no problem coming up the stairs.  As he made his way down, she pushed herself up one stair before stopping, holding her right front paw up, and meowed pitifully.  Keith frowned.  “What’s wrong?”  He sat down on the concrete at the base of the stairs and she laid across his lap, tucking her left paw underneath her and leaving the right one dangling over his leg.  

He stroked a hand down her back a few times before reaching down and carefully inspecting her paw.  Red made a disgruntled growl but let him look.  Her short temper got the best of her when he touched the inside of her leg, though, and she hissed and firmly tucked her other paw underneath her, shifting uncomfortably.  Keith’s frown deepened at the smudge of red on his fingers.  

“Alright, that does it.”  He carefully picked her up and carried her inside.  

~~~~~

Thirty minutes and an internet search later, the cut on Red’s leg was washed out, as were the scratches Keith had on his arm when she let him know very clearly what she thought of a syringe of water being squirted at her leg.  He set out her usual serving of a quarter can of cat food on a small plate in the kitchen, and while she was eating he typed something up on his laptop in his room with the door open.  After coaxing his ancient printer into printing just one measly document, he gave Red a quick scratch behind the ears and left her sleeping on a pillow on the couch.  

Paper and pen tucked in his pocket, Keith marched over to the house next door and knocked on the door.  He heard a couple of loud barks came from inside the house, then the same woman as before opened the door, looking just as foul-tempered as the last time he saw her.  “What?”  She asked, arching an eyebrow and looking down her nose at him.

“Are you aware that your cat is injured?”  Keith asked, trying to keep his tone civil.  

She shrugged.  “Not surprised.  It got into a fight with Myzax this morning so I stuck it outside.  Scratched his nose up.”  

“So you don’t care.”

“It’s its own fault if it gets hurt.”  She said.  “Maybe it shouldn’t pick fights with dogs ten times its size.”  

Keith bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming at her.  The German Shepherd, Myzax, tried to push his way outside, but the woman blocked him with her hip.  

“Do you want something, kid?”  She asked Keith, seeming impatient.

“Your cat.”  Keith said.  “I want your cat.”  

She snorted.  “Figures.  I was going to give it to the humane society, but it turns out they wouldn’t even give me any money for it.  Care to make it worth my while?”  She asked, smiling coldly.

“How much do you want?”  He asked.

“Hmmm…” she thought about it, drumming her long purple nails on the door jamb.  “Thirty-five bucks.   _ And _ ," she went on, holding up a finger and pointing to the large rolling trash cans every house on their street had.  “I hate bringing those things down to the curb.  Thirty-five bucks, and take care of those bins every trash day, and you can have the cat.”  

“Deal.”  Keith nodded.  He took the paper and pen out of his pocket.  “I want you to sign this, so there won’t be any trouble later.”

“I don’t want the damn cat, kid.  But whatever, I’ll sign your little form.”  She rolled her eyes and took it while he got out his wallet.  She signed her name on the line, and he handed over the money.  She counted it, then smirked.  “I’ll expect those trash bins to be on the curb Tuesday morning.”  She reminded him.

“Got it.”  He nodded curtly and took the form back.  “Have a nice afternoon.”

“Whatever, weird kid.”  She rolled her eyes and shut the door.  

As he walked back up the stairs to his apartment, he unfolded the paper and read through it.   _ I hereby transfer ownership of this cat (Jerry/Red) to Keith K. and understand that this transfer is permanent and cannot be revoked.  Signed, Haggar A.   _ He nodded once to himself, satisfied.  

Red picked her head up off the pillow when he opened the door.  “Hey, Red,” he greeted, smiling.  She hopped off the couch and walked over to him, limping only slightly.  When she got close, she stopped and bunched up her hind legs before springing into the air, and he caught her in his arms.  “You’re supposed to be resting your leg, you goof.”  He told her.  She rubbed her head against his jawline, purring.  He chuckled and sat down on the couch, pulling the folded up paper out of his pocket.  “Know what this says?  That you’re mine now.  You can stay here forever.”  

She bunted her head against his nose, and he kissed between her ears, smiling.

~~~~~

When he heard Lance’s footsteps on the stairs outside, Keith reached for the paper he had left sitting on the coffee table, fully prepared to explain himself the moment Lance walked in the door.  He was not expecting Lance to be holding a small gray cat in his arms.  The two of them froze, staring at each other, Lance halfway over the threshold.  

Lance’s eyes dropped to Red, dozing on Keith’s lap.  “Keith.”  He said, his voice even.

“Lance.”  He replied, just as carefully.  A beat of silence stretched between them.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”  Lance suggested.  

Sounded fair.  He held up the paper.  “I bought Red from that lady next door for thirty-five bucks and eternally moving her garbage cans to the curb on trash days.” 

“Oh.  Huh.”  Lance said, stepping inside and shutting the door.  “That’s an… unusual deal.”

“I’m just glad it was only that.  I expected her to try and wring my wallet dry.”  Keith said.  “And now, do you have something you want to share?”  He quirked an eyebrow up at his boyfriend, eyeing the gray cat in his arms.  

“Okay, so, for weeks there’s been this little gray cat chilling outside the natural sciences building,” Lance said.  “And I’ve been petting it almost every day before and after class.  My professor caught me doing it today when he left the classroom.  Dr. Coran said this cat has been around a while and as far as he can tell, she doesn’t belong to anyone.  So… I thought I’d just…”

“I can’t believe my boyfriend has gone over to a life of crime,” Keith said in a monotonous tone.  “Lance the cat-burglar.  Oh my.  Whatever will we do?”  

“Alright, can your sass.”  Lance said.  “I blame your influence.”  

Keith chuckled.  “Well, Red, looks like you’ve got a roommate.”  He set her on the floor.  “Let’s see if they get along.”

Lance set the gray cat down, and Keith noticed just how grimy her fur was, covered in burs and with mud around her paws.  The two cats stared at each other for a moment, yellow eyes locked on blue, then they cautiously moved closer to each other.  They sniffed at each other warily, then wandered back over to their respective humans, looking bored.  Well, it was better than fighting.  It was downright friendly, as far as first cat meetings go.  

Red bunted her head against Keith’s leg and he reached down to pick her up, letting her be a little lazy since she still had a hurt leg.  The gray cat, on the other hand, circled around Lance and meowed loudly.  Red let out a huff that sounded like a laugh as she curled up on Keith’s lap.  

“Alright, Blue, let’s get you cleaned up a little, baby girl.”  Lance murmured, picking up the gray cat.

“Nice name.”  Keith commented.  

“I like her blue eyes.”  Lance defended, heading for the bathroom.  

“Right, you totally didn’t copy me.”  Keith rolled his eyes.  

“I didn’t.”  Lance called from the bathroom over the sound of running water.  “If I had copied you, I would have named her Red.  Blue is  _ totally  _ different.”  There was a splash, followed by a yelp.  “Oh.  Wow, you like water.  I guess that makes this bath easier.”  

Keith chuckled and turned back to his book, one hand petting Red, who was still curled up on his lap.  Every once in while, the sound of running water or a splash echoed from the bathroom, but Keith didn’t bother to look up until he heard “Blue!  No!  Get back here!” and something wet ran across his lap.  The small gray cat, now dripping wet, skidded to a halt on the couch and came back to sniff at Red’s tail.  Some water dripped onto Red’s back, and Red reached up and batted her in the face with her paw, claws still hidden.  The two cats had a brief staring contest, then Blue leapt back over them and ran back into the bathroom.  Red made a disgruntled  _ mrrrp _ sound and licked the water away before settling down again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more headcanons:
> 
> Sometimes the cats sleep with their people in their rooms, sometimes they sleep curled up together in the living room. Sometimes they just tear around the apartment in the middle of the night for the hell of it. 
> 
> Red. knocks. Shit. OVER. Seriously, all the time. And she will look you in the eye while she does it. They’re lucky most of their cups are freebie plastic ones given away at events around campus, because this is why they can’t have nice things, Red. 
> 
> Blue prefers drinking from the faucet over drinking from a bowl. Lance can’t figure out why Blue watches him so intently whenever he turns on the sink, until he comes home and finds the sink running. On a weekend when Keith isn’t there, and he KNOWS he didn’t leave it running that morning. Blue looks very pleased with herself. She is less pleased when Lance baby-proofs the sink lever.
> 
> They’re both still outdoor cats. You can take a cat out of the outdoors but you can’t take the outdoor out of the cat (seriously, have you ever tried to make a former-outdoor cat an indoor cat? It does not work. They pee in your shoes. They pee in your dad’s suitcase. Just let them out, it’ll save you so much pee). Red and Blue usually spend their mornings prowling around the neighborhood and terrorizing birds, then have a nap in the sunshine on their porch in the afternoon, and when their humans get home from classes they whine and cry to go inside before the boys even unlock the door, acting like they’re SO neglected, GOSH, and they’re STARVING, they needed food HOURS AGO…
> 
> Both of them are either chill as heck or the biggest drama queens you’ve ever seen. There is no in-between.
> 
> Red HATES getting her claws trimmed. She only needs it done in the winter, because during the rest of the year she lets them get worn down by walking outside, but she refuses to set foot outside when there’s snow, so by January she’s got daggers on her paws. It takes two people and copious amounts of treats to trim her claws. Keith is eternally salty about Blue sitting nicely in Lance’s lap while he trims her claws, and the only fuss she puts up is because she wants some treats too and she knows it works for Red.
> 
> One time Red found Blue napping next to a laundry basket that was tipped on its side, so naturally she did the only logical thing and pushed the basket on top of her and then walked away. Blue wouldn’t nap with her for 3 WHOLE HOURS after Lance rescued her, she was so mad. They made up by dinnertime, though.
> 
> Their yearly landlord inspection consists of hiding the cats at their friend Hunk’s place, stashing all the cat food cans in the back of the cabinets behind the beans and soup cans, vacuuming the heck out of their apartment, and firmly pretending to not even know what a cat is while their landlord checks to make sure they haven’t broken anything. He leaves none the wiser.
> 
> Between Keith pinning a photo of Chris Pine to their tree and the cats climbing it/knocking it over/chasing all the baubles, Lance decides that maybe a Christmas tree is a little too much this year and they can go without. Keith persuades him to reconsider and they compromise; a small tree, shatterproof baubles, and Chris Pine has to stay tucked away in the branches. Everyone wins.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> (On the subject of dumb cat names, my cat’s first family named him Jerry. Why. He's a cat, he's not an accountant)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to dedicate this fic to Kuroo/Catshack (as I learned her name was when I found her owner… but I kept calling her Kuroo because who names a cat Catshack?), and my mom who enabled me by giving me cat food when I don’t even have a cat ("oh, you know, just IN CASE someone happens to come by again..."), and my roommate who put up with my cat-burglar shenanigans


End file.
